


Call Me Thomas, Peaches

by PrettyRascal (orphan_account)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bottom Alexander Hamilton, Flustered Alexander, Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, Minor Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PrettyRascal
Summary: Alexander is feeling a little adventurous when he decides to buy a coffee for the girl across the café. Although, how will he react  when the girl turns around to reveal a beard?Or(Late night café AU where Hamilton buys Jefferson a coffee, without realising it's Jefferson)





	Call Me Thomas, Peaches

She sat quietly pondering her decision of coffee. My watch read 8pm. I gaped at her, amused. She was wearing grey sweats and bright purple raincoat. Her umbrella laid soaked and discarded beside a tattered, yellow satchel.

I feel as though I’ve seen that bag before but I promptly dismissed the thought- concentrating back on her. She stared out the glazed window in a forlorn mood, seemingly focused on the dancing raindrops of the outside world.

“Beautiful hair,” I muttered. I was absolutely entranced by her. Despite not witnessing her face, I was tempted to make a move. I watched as she raised her considerable sized, but none the less graceful, hand to order. Her nails were painted a dull violet, which contrasted splendidly against mahogany skin.

She lowered her hand once she had caught the waiter’s attention. From across the café, I faintly heard the waiter repeat ‘latte’. Once he had noted her drink down I waved him over. “Put her order on my bill.” This may be the last time I see her after all. Well, unless I make a move…

The waiter looked perplexed. He gestured towards the girl and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, her.” He gave me an awkward smile and said, “Haha …sure.” I thanked him and waited patiently for her order to arrive. For the next few minutes I waited as anxious thoughts rolled through my mind. What did she really look like? Would she accept the gesture? I had imagined her face a thousand times over. Surely, she would be gorgeous. As I continued to think it over a little voice nagged at the back of my mind _, “Her hair is oddly familiar. Think Alexander!”_ The thought quickly disappeared as her drink was handed to her.

I watched as she reached for her brown purse (which looked rather like a wallet). “No, no!” the waiter exclaimed, “That kind gentleman over there payed for your order.”

A sense of confidence began to build within me- then it deflated. The girl turned around to look at me- finally! Only, she wasn’t a girl. A neatly trimmed beard adorned her, **_his_** , face. It was Thomas Jefferson. I was seething. Utter shock melted into a smug visage . A smirk suddenly pulled at the corners of his lips. “Why, thank you. You’re such a dear, Alexander,” he drawled out and swiftly winked.

I’ve never been so embarrassed, of all the people in the world and **he** turns around. It’s impossible for me to be more humiliated. It could have been any man- even Madison! There is no way on earth that I am ever going to live this down… I buried my bright red face into my hands.

_‘What have I done?’_ I thought to myself, then groaned externally. While wallowing in my own self-pity I heard the _clunk_ of a glass on my table and the _screech_ of a chair being pulled in. I hesitated, but looked up.

Looming over me was the Francophile himself- still looking cocky as ever. I was not ready nor in the mood to deal with his behaviour. I opened my mouth to attack him verbally, but I was soon hushed by his index finger pressing to my lips. This time he emitted a genuine grin.

“So~ I thought you were an item with Laurens but clearly not since you’ve taken an interest in _moi.”_ he stated, voice deep. I scoffed at him.

“Well, I suppose it’s a **fabulous** thing that I morally base my relationships on personality and not on looks,” I spat.

“Oh~ So you admit I’m good looking,” he said, winking once again. I quickly became flustered “No-no…I would, I don’t-” I tried to sputter out. I was cut off by a humoured chuckle. “But Alexander if you don’t think that, it would leave me with an unrequited love~”

I paused. _Love?_ My eyes widened and I let out a nervous giggle. “Haha, whatever you say Jefferson.” I said, my eyes refusing to make contact with his own brown, gleaming ones. “Oh Alexander, surely we’re on first name basis now. Call me Thomas, peaches.” He all but growled on the last sentence. I let out another anxious giggle.

“Well it’s late, I should get going.” I stated as I quickly jumped out of my seat and grabbed my backpack. Thomas followed suit then looked down at me and smiled rather animalistically. “What a great idea, why don’t we go back to my place?” he offered.

I rolled my eyes. “Despite what you may think, I’m not one for casual hook-ups.” I replied. He let out another deep chuckle that sent goose bumps up my spine. “Oh? Then let’s be serious.” There was not an ounce of jest lingering on his face. I was confused. Serious?

“I mean it, Alexander. Date me.” He all but commanded. My eyebrows furrowed and I turned red. This is a joke, not real, not at all. I opened my mouth to say something, but instead I spun on my heal and walked away. I had successfully made it out of the door and a few metres down the street when I heard feet jogging behind me. I quickened my pace in hopes to get away, but to no avail. A hand firmly clamped onto my shoulder and stopped me. “Look that was a little forward of me, but I’m not taking it back. I fucking hate every fibre of your being- but I can’t help but be attracted to you. I will have you date me, if it is the last thing I do.” Thomas preached at me. My whole body heated up. This was so wrong. He was my practically  **mortal enemy!**

We both stood there for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds. After a while Thomas bent down to my height, mouth to my ear and whispered, “What happened to that confident Alex at the café? So keen to flirt and impress a lady. You’re so shy and quiet now… but don’t worry, I think I like this Alex better. Don’t you think the same, peaches?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Jamilton fic and my first story posted on AO3. Please give me feedback or send me a request if you'd like! Also, I am dyslexic and this isn't edited lmao, so please point out any mistakes you spot. Thank you for reading ^^


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